Tuesday, April 9, 2013

When I was six, I wanted to be a mountain climber...and then I came to the realization that mountains were not like slides, and that just because you could climb up slides did not mean that you can climb up mountains with ease. As it turns out, children's representations of mountains aren't really that accurate.

When I was in fourth grade, I thought I would be a journalist.

This had nothing to do with a skill for writing or an interest in news or a dedication to "getting the truth out there", and everything to do with what was the coolest green vest in the world.

My mom had this lime green vest with three big black buttons, and it was probably the singular most fantastic clothing item my fourth-grade self had ever perceived. (And sense no one has seen this vest in years and it cannot be disproved...yeah, we'll call it THE BEST THING EVER.) In fourth grade, I had this stellar mental image of myself at twenty-four, sitting on top of a table with my feet on a chair (because I was COOL) - my hair was pulled back, I had on a white t-shirt and a dark blue wash set of what has come to be termed "mom-jeans"; and I was leaned forward, arms resting on my knees talking with my other journalist friends about journalism. Or the news. Or something. We were planning and talking and laughing, and I thought "THAT is what I could do. I'll be there at twenty-four."

I am not where my fourth-grade self thought I would be. We've long since lost that green vest, I didn't have enough hair for a pony-tail until my early twenties and it got weirdly curly sometime between fourth grade and now, and thank God, I know better than to wear high-waisted mom-jeans.

I am not where my fourth grade self thought I would be at twenty-four. I didn't have any huge plans or ideas; just a vague concept of what I assumed was that mythical land of "adulthood". I figured I would have life figured.

But, as it turns out...mountains are harder to climb than slides, and an awesome vest does not a journalist make.

Life is wicked complicated, and even though few of us are doing what our fourth-grade selves thought we would be doing, life is good. Maybe not worse, and maybe not better than our idealization of adulthood...just different. Just because we don't have it all (or even most) of it figured out, doesn't mean that we're not headed somewhere terrific.

I don't know where your life is headed. I don't know where my life is headed. I do know that expectations do not always meet reality, and I do know that that is not always a bad thing.

I wouldn't make a very good journalist, and I'd make an even worse mountain climber. Thankfully, we're not committed to fourth grade dreams and ideals. We get to grow, and we get to change, and we get to figure this life out one day at a time.

All that being said...I'm shopping for a green vest now. Because let's face it...fourth grade me had STYLE.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Today I went to go buy a new Bible. I've got a pretty fantastic study Bible -- I've had it since freshman year of high school; it's leather-bonded, and been rebound twice and, let's face it...I've put it through the wringer.
It's beat up and part of Psalms is falling out (again) and it's jam-packed full of ticket stubs from conferences and book marks from church camps and pages from bulletins; and it is no longer a practical thing to carry on mission trips or to church camp. I mean, what would I do if I lost my bookmark with all of my campers signatures from last year's church camp, or my Hot Hearts '98 schedule or my ticket stub from my last Jeremy Camp concert? Or Psalms, for that matter?

So I ventured down to my local Christian bookstore to find a travel Bible. Something compact, lightweight, and durable...Something I wouldn't mind getting muddy, and something that wouldn't knock somebody out if I threw it and it hit them in the face. (Study bibles are thick. In case you didn't know) I figured it'd be an easy trip. In and out, ten minutes, tops.

Boy was I wrong.

I don't know about your's, but my local Christian bookstore has a HUGE selection of Bibles. From NIV to ASV to NEW NIV to NRSV to KJV to NKJV to ESPN. (I might have made the last one up.)
So I made my way over to the NIV section. It's a pretty safe bet that most protestant camps and trips use NIV, and it's a good version to use with kids.

And there I was bombarded. Even within this one section there were at least 15 different variations of Bibles -- study bibles and thinline bibles and compact thinline bibles and bibles for the working mother and teenage bibles and EXTREME!!!!! teenage bibles and bibles for boys and bibles for girls and "the perfect edition gift bible" and the list goes on. And within those sections? You can get a "bug edition" girls bible and a superstar girls bible and I found not one, not two, but THREE variants of camouflage bible covers.

Like it matters or something.
Like you should judge a book by its cover.

I mean, people. It's the word of God. Can't it just speak for itself?

And that's not even the frustrating part. I mean, I guess I can get behind "designer" Bibles...and I totally get devotionals aimed at working moms, or teenagers...we're all at different places in our lives and different passages can speak to different people.

The fact that I can buy a "flora and fauna" bible that is either black and pink flower or marhna blue
and floral Italian duo tone is weird. But the fact that they cost $37?
That's outrageous.
That's upsetting.

That's just wrong.

The least expensive Bible I could find to purchase was $8. Not a problem. I mean, I think someone seeking to find a Bible should be able to find one for less than that, but I understand that you have to cover your costs.

The next least expensive? $28.
And it just got worse from there. Bibles are now designer, expensive, and tailor made so you don't have to worry about being "unfashionable" with the word of God.

And if they're not? The one $8 bible you can purchase is not well made. The binding is shoddy and the pages aren't well separated, and it will fall apart with regular use rather quickly.

If we're supposed to be spreading God's love and His word...shouldn't it be easily accessible to all economic brackets? Shouldn't it be of good quality? And should we really care if it's pinstriped or zebra print or decorated with barbed wire?

Shouldn't the word of God just speak for itself? Or do we have to market it to make people want what they so desperately need?

And isn't everyone entitled to a Bible that won't fall apart? How do you reach out to your community if your community can't afford to drop twenty bucks on something that will last them a decent amount of time?

Some days, I just don't get my culture. And some days, I'm glad of it.

Monday, June 25, 2012

I love this stupid thing. Her name is Gabby. Gabby has done nothing to deserve my affection. In fact, quite frequently, the cat goes out of her way to be aggravating. She claws at the carpet, meows loudly and for no good reason, and regularly gallops up and down the hallway as though she's spent the past five minutes rolling around in catnip or cocaine. Often, she forgets I exist and completely ignores me, no matter how I call to her.

And then other days, she loves me. She lets me pet her and play with her, and show her how glad I am that we're sharing the same living space. She'll rub her head up against me and twist about between my legs, and lets me know that she's glad I'm here, too.

How often do we treat God like that? How often do we simply acknowledge his presence, and then turn our tails and walk away if we don't need anything at the moment? We mistreat his earth and his people. And then, when we feel like it, we let him know that we love him. We give our praise and our amens, and sometimes even do things for him in the form of mission and outreach. Sometimes we even go out of our way to say thank you.

I am exactly like the stupid cat. No matter what she does, or how much furniture she shreds or how much fur she sheds, I will always pet the cat if she asks.

And Gods loves us no matter what the circumstance. Whether we treat him like he's the only thing in our universe or whether we go out and behave in a manner completely unbecoming to a child of God; he still loves us.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Artists tend to be compulsive. They rehash, and edit, and go over a piece or project a million and a half times until they're satisfied...and they're never satisfied. But eventually, deadlines creep up and the artist must STOP. They've got to find a point where they're at least somewhat comfortable with what they've produced, and show it to someone.

And then...we're still not comfortable. We're still not at ease, we're still not satisfied...

Ask any artist, and I'm certain they'll be able to show you at least five flaws in any completed piece.

So how do we get over it? How do we move on, and start something fresh and new even if we aren't completely satisfied with our work?

Simple. We do what everyone else does in their insecurities...

We fake it until it works.

We take our projects and show them off, and take whatever criticisms come our way and use them to build a better piece. We become secure enough in our works that when the non-helpful criticism is thrown our way, we can shake it off.

So go out. Showboat. Showcase. Show the world what you've got, and be confident in it.

The world will take notice.

F-O-O-T-N-O-T-E

Thanks to the power of the internet, an artist can showcase their work with little to no trouble at all, and thanks to the power of social media, artists can make connections with other artists, students, and potential clients with even less trouble.

And so...I present to you, Orkut. Or, more specifically, my Orkut profile. And my deviantart profile. Why? Because we're all working on this confidence thing.